"You know something, Stefan? You've changed my life around to suit you, not me.
You've ruined what few goals I had for myself. It's time I had some truth from you. You owe me that much at least."
"You have been told the truth — mostly the truth."
"I'm not talking about your damn fairy tale and you know it. I want to know your feelings, Stefan. Do you still want me?"
"Yes!"
He sounded so furious about it, she cringed. "I gather you wish that weren't so?"
"Exactly."
"Why? Because you think I'm a whore?"
"No."
She wasn't sure she believed that, though he had admitted to wanting her before— before she was uncloaked, so to speak. "Then it's just as I supposed, isn't it? You can't stand the sight of me now."
"The sight of you is too beautiful for words, as you well know."
She frowned. "I don't know any such thing. But I do know that you aren't making much sense. Of course that shouldn't surprise me, since you never do.
"I did not invite you into my mind, Tanya, you forced your way in. If you don't like what you find—"
"Thanks a lot," she cut in impatiently. "All I asked for was a little clarification of motives, to know why you kiss me one moment but despise me the next."
"I don't despise you."
"But you despise the way I look," she pointed out. "I dare you to deny it!"
"Yes, because I desire beautiful things just like any man. Only I am a realist," he added almost tiredly. "You and I are not compatible."
Because she was a lowly tavern wench, and he a condescending bastard. No, they weren't compatible at all. But he'd give her one night. He'd said as much last night. Only she didn't want "only once."
"Why don't you do us both a favor and stay away from me?"
"I wish I could, but even now I want you. Name your price, Tanya."
She stiffened. If she didn't hate him now, offers like that would soon change her mind. How dared he try to buy her again, and after admitting he wanted her?
"All right," she said bitterly. "The price is my freedom — before this ship sails."
Hot golden color was back in his eyes. "So I must forsake my duty to have you? I think not, little houri. And I think it's time you had the whole truth. Vasili is not the King of Cardinia."
"Tell me something I didn't know," she snorted.
"I am king."
"My oh my, will wonders never cease," she said with exaggerated amazement. "From one whopper to another, eh? But it's kind of late to try that one, isn't it? At least Vasili looks and acts like a king."
"You think a king can't be scarred?" he demanded, his eyes really starting to glow now.
That caught her off guard. "Scarred?" She frowned, but only for a moment. "You mean yours?" Suddenly she laughed. "Oh, come on, Stefan. Who even notices a few little scars with eyes like yours? And how many times do I have to tell you I'm not stupid? You're telling me you're king just so you can have me. Did you honestly think I wouldn't know that?"
Something in her reply must have caught him off guard for a moment. The heat went out of his eyes, and he actually looked confused. Lord help her, the man must have really been working under the impression she was a halfwit, just because of where she came from. And here she'd thought he had more intelligence than that.
"I think we should have ended this conversation before it began," he said.
"It was rather pointless, wasn't it?"
"I really am the new King of Cardinia, Tanya."
She sighed. "Have it your way. I'm still not going to be your whore for a day, Stefan. "
"No, you're quite right. That was too much to ask. And I will endeavor to stay away from you during this voyage as you requested."
He was being stiffly formal now. She found she liked that even less than his anger, which was at least a true indication of feeling.
"Does that mean I will have a cabin to myself?" she ventured.
"This one."
"But I suppose I will be locked in again?"
"That won't be necessary once we are at sea. Until then..." He left that thought unfinished, though its meaning was clear, but he abruptly went on to another. "Your new wardrobe will arrive shortly. Sasha took the initiative of ordering it for you, promising a ridiculous bonus to the seamstress to have it completed in so little time. He does love to spend my money, but in this case he has managed to gain us back the time we lost in returning to Natchez."
"Then that lets me off the hook, I suppose, if that Sandor fellow dies before we—"
"Sandor is my father, Tanya. Doubt me all you like, but use a respectful tone when you mention him. "
Well, pardon her for breathing. Damn him, he was managing to annoy her again.
"I'm delighted everything has at least worked out to your satisfaction," she ground out tersely. "Now, if you don't mind—"
"Actually, I wanted to choose your clothes."
Tanya could only stare at him, fighting to keep her expression blank. Why did he have to say something like that, something so — possessive? It made her innards start to churn, when she'd been keeping her damned attraction for him so well under control during this whole encounter. Even when he'd said again that he wanted her, she'd been too angry to let it affect her.
He frowned now — because of her silence or his own words, — she couldn't tell. The smile that came next, however, was unmistakably selfmocking. But his voice when he continued to speak was clipped with impatience. Obviously, he couldn't wait to get out of there.
"Go through the trunks as soon as they arrive, because if you require anything else, it will have to be seen to immediately or not at all. And you shouldn't be disappointed in Sasha's taste or his thoroughness. He has a flair for fashion and, unlike myself, an eye for proper sizing. He assures me everything will fit you perfectly."
With a curt nod, he left her. And true to his word, it was the last Tanya saw of him for a long while.
As for her new clothes, they were the stuff of dreams, fit for a princess. And though she couldn't summon much enthusiasm for them, she couldn't find fault with them either — well, maybe one. Because Stefan had had no say in what was bought for her, she now had every conceivable undergarment known to women. She could have done without half of them.
Chapter 30
About halfway to Europe, Tanya began to believe the fairy tale. And it was Sasha who began to convince her by not even trying. While the others were annoyed with her again for putting Stefan in such a lousy mood — though she never saw this mood, she only heard about it — Sasha befriended her. Without fail, he was always respectful. He would grouchingly criticize Vasili, sometimes Lazar, and once even the usually quiet Serge, and in their presence no less, but he never had a condemning word for Tanya.
One day she finally asked him why he was being so kind to her.
"Because you deserve it more than most, your Highness. Your life has been hard, harder than mine, I think, before Stefan took me into his service."
"How would you know what my life has been like?"
Sasha explained. "Stefan has told me what you tell him. He doesn't believe all of it. Then he believes what he shouldn't. I think you throw him the truth, daring him to accept it, then toss him the lies to punish him for his doubts. He also told me what he saw for himself. That man who raised you, he should have been shot."
Tanya grinned at that opinion. "I've often thought so myself."
"But you stayed with him, when you could have left. "
"He finally needed me, really needed me. I had to…"
Tanya didn't like the way that sounded, as if she had some daughterly feelings for Dobbs, which she didn't. She couldn't. The man was too meanspirited to inspire affection. She discounted those years when she had thought he was her father and loved him despite his cruelties.